From the Heart
by HowNowWit
Summary: Infectious commitments. Sometimes life gives you exactly what you need. Rizzles. One-shot. Fluff.


From the Heart

"What are you doing?"

"Reading the new treatment guidelines for native and prosthetic valve infective endocarditis."

Jane tossed her keys on the counter and sighed. "I should know by now not to ask."

Maura turned the page, eyes scanning the small text. "It's important to stay up to date with current medical practices. Medicine is always a changing field." Her eyes flicked up as Jane removed her jacket. "Confession?"

Jane huffed a tired half-laugh. "Finally." Sometimes life had a way of interfering with the best laid plans. She leaned a hip against the counter and nodded her chin at the journal article. "Do I want to know what infected cards are?"

Maura paused and gave her a look. One that lingered and said much more than words ever could. It teased and accused, tempered with affection, and said _I know what you're doing_ and _I'm letting you do it_. When Jane did it _right_, like now, there was also humor, just there. Crinkled eyes, the tilt of the head, the slight upcurve of lips in an almost-smile.

Jane's heart tightened in those few seconds of silent communication. Just looking. It chased the dragging fatigue from her shoulders, replaced it with something softer. Warmer.

Maura's eyes danced between hers for a few more moments before dropping to the article. She set it aside, a finger tracing the edges to align corners.

"Probably not," she admitted with a small shrug.

Jane nodded, feeling the tension in her muscles beginning to loosen. It was quiet moments like this – simple moments, just them – that kept her going. Allowed her to settle into herself.

She indicated the article with her eyes. "Can they wait?"

Maura's mouth quirked, revealing the indentation of a cheek. "It's not a life or death situation."

That smile. The duck of her head, the way her eyes sparkled. It let Jane know she was missing a part of a joke. A very complicated joke that only geniuses could understand. Her interest was piqued. It made her hands hungry.

Maura rose, smoothing the hem of her top. "Are you hungry?"

Jane almost smiled, eyes never leaving Maura. "Yeah." Raspy, low.

"What would you like? We still have the leftovers from—"

Jane slipped an arm around Maura's waist, catching her before she could turn away. "It can wait," she said, pulling Maura towards her.

Maura allowed the tug, and they stood, sharing space. Just looking. Hazel eyes searched hers, questioning but patient, and Jane allowed herself the pleasure of lingering admiration. Her eyes traced the familiar contours of rounded cheekbones, straight nose, feminine jaw. As moments passed into minutes, the heat of a blush colored the smooth skin of a throat. Jane smiled, reached out and brushed Maura's hair over her shoulder.

"Hey," Jane murmured, and in that syllable she felt as though she said everything and nothing.

_Oh_. That smile.

"You said that already."

The warm ache in her chest was almost painful. Jane knew she'd been heard.

Her other arm joined the first, encircling Maura's waist, pulling them closer. Together. Confusion colored Maura's face for a moment, but she leaned into the embrace, and Jane lost herself in the comfort of contact, the sweet scent of Maura's shampoo. Hair tickled her cheeks as her nose bumped against an earlobe. She rested her back against the counter, Maura pressed into her front, and closed her eyes. It was times like this, lost in the sensations of intimacy, the world distant and dormant, that Jane acknowledged what she felt every time Maura held her close. Safe. Happy. Home.

She pressed her lips to the soft skin below Maura's ear, and felt hands trace up her arms before resting on her neck, fingers brushing the delicate skin of her throat. Reacquaintance. Acknowledgment. Maura loved to touch her there, and it made Jane feel vulnerable and strong at the same time.

"What are they?" Jane asked into the slope where neck met shoulder. She placed a kiss there, letting her lips linger. The fragrance of Maura's body wash chased the remaining tension away.

"You just like to hear me 'science-speak,'" Maura accused.

Jane huffed a laugh, her breath teasing the hair at Maura's neck before she pulled away. Eyes danced. "Maybe..."

A finger traced the line of Jane's jaw, and Maura's eyes followed the movement. "_Staphylococcus aureus_." The finger moved to her lower lip, the caress light. Intimate. Playful. "Enterobacteriaceae. Nafcillin." Hazel eyes flicked up to hers, and Jane wanted to taste the humor dancing in their depths. Lips moved deliberately slow around the syllables, aware of their effect. "Vancomycin."

Jane couldn't hide her shiver. The intensity of Maura's gaze let her know she'd felt it.

"So what are they?" she insisted.

Eyes glanced up briefly. "Hm?"

"The infected cards?"

Maura shook her head. "You're confusing your singular and plural." The squint. A lip bite.

_Tease_.

Jane sighed in mock exasperation. "Fine. What is _it_?"

Maura laughed, the movement jostling them both, and Jane knew she wanted this. She wanted this forever.

"It's an infection of the heart. It can be quite serious if not treated."

"The heart," Jane repeated, as though tasting the word. The thumping in her chest suddenly felt significant. "Serious?"

Maura nodded. "Fatal." She tilted her head. Waiting. Watching.

Jane leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, caressed a hipbone with her thumb. Maura's weight sank into hers, as though saying _at last_. The first kiss of the night was always the best. The fingers tightened around her neck, keeping her close.

This felt right. Timing was everything, people said. And while Jane hadn't planned on using fatal infections as her launching point, she had to admit the subject was apropos.

"Hey Maur?" Soft, low. Whispered against soft skin.

"Mmm?" Distracted. Lips followed hers as she tried to pull away, and Jane lost her train of thought as the kiss deepened, the hand at her neck pulling her back. For the next few minutes, there was only the sensation of skin against skin, slow and deep and promising.

Jane pressed her forehead to Maura's, trying to catch her breath. "I think my cards are infected."

"Oh?" A hand traced her collarbone, and Jane took a deep breath to keep her thoughts from scattering.

"Yeah. It's serious."

The hand paused at her suprasternal arch – _really? Maura was rubbing off on her_ – and she felt Maura's focus as she pulled back, concerned hazel eyes searching her own.

She smiled to ease the sudden worry. The muscles beneath her fingers relaxed.

"Serious?" Maura asked, slowly. Trying to understand.

Jane nodded. "Lifelong." She said with her eyes what her words couldn't. Something shifted in Maura's expression, and Jane thought she understood.

The hand on her neck moved to rest over Jane's heart. The warmth sank into her skin through her top, mirroring the growing warmth in her soul. Jane closed her eyes briefly. Perfect. This was perfect.

Sometimes…sometimes life gave you exactly what you needed.

Jane raised her hand to cover Maura's. She pressed the small box down and around, urging it into her palm. The velvet _shush_ed quietly as it passed owners, and she felt Maura stiffen in surprise, then go still.

A moment of silence, in which Jane was only aware of shared breaths, joined hands with velvet between, and the rhythmic thumping of her own heart beneath.

Maura looked up.

Jane leaned in and pressed a soft, slow kiss to parted lips. "Infective endocarditis," she murmured, as though tasting the words. "Incurable."

She pulled away and met Maura's gaze, saw the slightly more visible sheen to her eyes. There was shock and disbelief and hope all mixed into one.

Jane nodded and raised her eyebrows, smile small and hopeful. She waited.

"Jane…" Maura breathed.

The hand beneath hers tightened around the box, and Jane wondered how such a small thing could feel so heavy.

"Incurable," Jane repeated, pressing Maura's hand into her chest.

Something flickered in Maura's eyes. She saw the phrase _till death do us part_ pass through Maura's mind. Saw her understand and appreciate the double meaning, but more importantly the implications and the promise and the question.

The _question_. And then—

Jane's heart lurched.

_Oh_. That smile.

She had her answer.

…

...

A/N: As a fun fact for any science buffs out there, there are no "new" treatment guidelines for infective endocarditis. They're ten years old right now. But new ones should be coming along anytime now. I bent the facts to fit my fic. I think Maura will forgive me. Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
